I awoke last night in a cold sweat, completely disorientated and feverishly grabbing each wrist to verify their freedom. No, it was not another case of mistaken identity with Paris Hilton but a FASHION NIGHTMARE (a build up of subconscious anxiety commonly experienced on Sunday evening)!!!! My dream transported me to Brentwood, CA, site of the Nicole Brown Simpson/Ron Goldman murders, where my fantasy friend was designer Rick Owens. Rick Owens is a conspicuous, uncomfortably handsome man with Pocahontas flowing locks, looks that rival a medieval warlock and a towering physique that is amplified by his 5 inch high heeled boots. In my vivid slumber sequence, Rick shadowed as a celebrity hairdresser, Jennifer Aniston in particular, and was out of cash and in need of some Aqua Net to do the friendly ex-Mrs. Pitt's locks for a premiere. Rick hands me a shot gun and sugars me to hold up a CVS for some discounted hair products in exchange for a head-to-toe spring look. The next thing I know i wake to blaring hip-hop 15 minutes before I need to be in the office this morning!!! No brainier before espresso, my new Rick Owens tank and skirt paired with an unstructured yet armored Anne Demeulemeester jacket. Less Gothic draped hairspray thief and more whimsical Titania, Queen of the Fairies, in the midsummer day dream.